Black Kat Friday
by Peregrine2
Summary: Takes place after 1.10, Don’t Leave Me this Way. Thanksgiving brings whiny brats, the forced company of relatives, and a hellish descent into mall madness.
1. Chapter 1

Black Kat Friday-Kat/Patrick, T

_When Black Friday comes  
I'm gonna dig myself a hole  
Gonna lay down in it 'til  
I satisfy my soul_

_Black Friday, Lyrics by Steely Dan_

Rated T for mild language and innuendo.

Summary: Takes place after 1.10, Don't Leave Me this Way. Thanksgiving brings whiny brats, the forced company of relatives, and a hellish descent into mall madness.

Here I sat, surrounded by Uncle Jimmy's five boys (all less than a year apart, no wonder Aunt Debbie hits the sauce so hard). I've been kicked, punched, and pinched in the ass by these hooligans, and they're just getting started. Last time I checked, Russell was eyeing the carving knife and Jack was pulling the cat's tail (he totally deserved the claw marks on his hand). Peter's fingers were shoved up his nose, and little Wally was running around with Dad's stethoscope. The baby was bouncing on Debbie's knee and yanking out fistfuls of Mommy's hair while crowing with delight.

Bianca was racing around the kitchen and trying not to trip on her ridiculously high heels. I grunted when she asked for help and started throwing together one of those gloppy disasters with marshmallows and yams. I ignored my sister's instructions and shoved it in the broiler. I plugged in my iPod and drowned out the wails of Jimmy and Debbie's ever growing brood. But even that was no match for Bianca's shrieks of outrage, and I put my head up in time to see her dousing a fire.

"What the hell…? I started to move forward but was checked by her icy glare.

"You couldn't even help for two seconds," she hissed before pulling out the casserole I'd hastily thrown to the flames.

We both looked down at the blackened remains of the marshmallows and I made a sign of the cross behind her head. "Shall I read the last rites?" I said dryly.

Bianca punched my arm. "It's _not_ funny. This was supposed to be a surprise for Jimmy and Debbie."

I scowled at the back of Debbie's head. "Why, because they've chosen to procreate…_again_?"

"Children are a blessing," Bianca chided as she scraped out the pan.

Peter chased Russell across the floor and they sent three bottles of wine smashing to the floor. "You were saying?" I said with a smirk as I helped her sweep up the latest disaster.

She sighed when the last of the glass was safely disposed of. "Today was supposed to be special."

I cocked my head. "You're thinking of Mom again."

Bianca looked around at our noisome guests. "She would have loved this."

That's not the Mom that lived in my head. The cool, collected swan with the dancer's build and the penchant for black leather would have hated every second. I was old enough to remember every tight-lipped smile and muttered curse that passed between my parents when his brother descended on us, always taking and never returning the favor on his end. When it was over, Mom would disappear to her studio and paint for hours while she drowned herself in vintage Macallan. It was time to shred the image Bianca had of Mom. "She loathed the entire holiday season," I said flatly, watching as her face fell into confusion.

Dad apparently overheard part of my comment and popped his head in. "I know you're disappointed, but Great Aunt Jenny is not coming today."

"Thanks, Dad." I flashed him a falsely bright smile that reassured him enough to send him spinning back into the clutches of the tiny terrors, who grabbed at his trousers as they played tag.

******

Jenny and Mom had been two peas in a pod. They had nothing good to say about tradition and flew the flag of feminism proudly. I owed every ounce of my activist self to Jenny, and I often accompanied her to charity events.

I'd desperately wanted to help her downtown with the big dinner put on by the Salvation Army, but Dad had put the kibosh on that idea. And when I'd lobbied to accompany Jenny when she delivered meals to underprivileged folks, he'd also torpedoed that plan.

"I know what you're doing," he'd cautioned me earlier in the week.

"Dad, I haven't seen Jenny since…."

He cut me off. "You're grounded, and you'll stay here with family."

"But Dad, it's for a good cause."

"I agree, but you're benched for the rest of the season."

Which effectively grounded me through the end of Christmas vacation. "Look, I know I messed up, and I've more than paid the price."

That comment was met with a raised eyebrow and another dozen chores to add to my already crowded dance card. "At this rate, I'll be grounded through graduation," I muttered with displeasure.

Dad pointed his finger at me. "Don't push your luck, missy."

*****

The horde finally left at eight. All the kids were stuffed full of soda and other sugary crap and I hoped they hurled all over the back seat on the way back to Riverside.

I retreated to my room and treated myself to a long, hot shower where I sang along to some punishing tunes from New Model Army. 51st State was cranking up right about the time that Bianca pounded on the door and reminded me that the Earth was weeping at the loss of so much water.

"Damn," I said as guilt washed over me, just as my savvy sister had known it would.

I quickly rinsed off the soap and dried myself off with my usual efficiency. In record time, I had my hair plaited and had just put on my cozy slippers when my phone vibrated. There was only one person who'd dare contact me at this late hour, and I suspected he was waiting outside my window. I glanced down at my phone's display and sure enough, my suspicions were correct.

_I've come to break you out of jail._

I stalked across my room and glared at him through the window. With his ever present smirk, he leaned against the balustrade with folded arms and waited for me to cave. The screen was down and locked, so I raised the window a few inches and hissed, "You need to leave."

Patrick hunkered down to my level and smiled. "Scared that the old man might catch us canoodling?"

"Ooh, big words. I bet you memorized that one just for me."

His smile widened. "Don't you wish?"

I rolled my eyes. "Seriously, was there something you wanted?"

His grin lingered. "Oh, seriously," he mocked. "Maybe I wanted to see how you were doing."

Kind of crappy, but I wasn't about to get into it with him. "I think the orange jumpsuits are particularly flattering."

Patrick's eyes lit up for a moment, but the gleam faded as he sensed my mood. "You want to talk about it?"

Several snappy comebacks came to mind, but I wasn't in the mood for our usual sparring. "Not really."

He accepted that with a shrug. "Any chance he'll let you off for good behavior?"

I could go to eternity and back and I'd still be grounded. "Not a chance."

"Hmm," Patrick said thoughtfully. "I could swear I saw him passed out on the couch."

Freedom was within my reach, but I knew that Bianca was guarding the fort and would squeal to Dad. Still, once she got texting with her circle of vixens, she might completely forget to guard the tower. "I shouldn't."

Patrick's smirk was back in place, because he knew he had me. "But you will, because you're obsessed with me. I'll meet you around the corner in ten."

******

I slid into jeans and a hoodie and made it to the corner in less than 8 minutes. Patrick was leaning against the hood of a classy old car. "Nice ride," I commented. "57 Chevy?"

His grin practically ignited my senses as I trailed my fingers along one side of the car. "See? You _did_ learn something in shop."

"And I didn't even break a nail," I said sardonically. "How many laws did you break on your way over here?"

"It's on loan."

"I'll bet," I snapped.

Patrick's appreciative chuckle slipped even further past my defenses. "How's that anger management working out for you?"

I growled and almost laughed when he pretended to cower in fear. "Watch your back."

"Aww, hasn't your incarceration taught you anything?"

Patrick and I faced off on opposite sides of the car. "Besides planning your ultimate demise? Not a thing."

"I'm touched." He got behind the wheel and gestured for me to hop in.

I quickly took my place and spared him a glance. "Don't be. It can _still_ be arranged."

"I'll be waiting," Patrick joked. "Where are we off to?"

My second glance was longer and a bit baffled. "You're leaving it up to me?"

"Sure."

I looked over again and was snared by the expression in his eyes. My senses started spinning and it took a moment before I could draw breath. "Head for Central Street and I'll direct you from there."

*****

We pulled into Jenny's driveway and were almost at the front door when Patrick asked, "Who lives here?"

"My Great Aunt Jenny."

He nodded and looked around at the election signs dotting the front yard. "Let me guess. Former 60's radical turned activist?"

"Sort of."

We heard the sound of laughter and loud music. "Sounds pretty lively in there. Are we crashing a party?"

"Maybe." I could hear Jenny shouting over a drunken rendition of Sweet Virginia by the Stones.

"At least she has good taste in music." Patrick jabbed the buzzer before I could stop him.

"The night is young," I countered.

The door swung open and Jenny's sharp eyes darted between us. "Hell, we were just placing bets on whether you'd show up."

"Wally has a tight leash on her," Patrick quipped.

"You're not kidding." Jenny looked him up and down with frank appreciation. "So _you're_ the stud that's gotten her panties in such a twist."

He laughed and extended his hand as she swept us in. "Patrick Verona."

She gripped his hand and pumped it a few times. "Jenny Caldwell."

I put my head down to hide the flush that was creeping across my face. "Will you two get a room already?"

"Not if you get there first," Jenny crowed as she clapped Patrick on the back.

She led him into the living room and introduced him to all her lady friends. Two were holdovers from previous years, but one was someone I recognized instantly.

Patrick sidled in my direction and muttered, "Is that who I think it is?"

I nodded. "Yeah, it's her all right."

The lady in question was named Verna, the life is short lady from the night of the fire.

******

"Don't stand there catching flies," Jenny commented. "Pull up a chair and be ready to get your asses handed to you."

I was used to the Jenny show, but Patrick seemed highly entertained as he watched the ladies finishing up a hand of 5 card draw. Jenny started to shuffle the cards and she speared us with her razor sharp gaze. "You in?"

My smile told Jenny I knew how this would go, and I would not be a party to it. "Not this time."

"How about SH here?"

I almost died at hearing this aphorism directed at Patrick's tousled cloud of curls. He threw me a puzzled half smile and I knew he'd beat the answer out of me later. "I don't answer for him."

Verna and Jenny exchanged amused glances and Verna finally said, "Well, sonny, what's it gonna be? Are you in or out?"

Patrick's eyes crinkled for a moment at my discomfiture. "Bring it on."

There was a growing pile of bills in front of Verna, who clearly outclassed everyone in the room (so far). What Patrick didn't know was that Jenny passed the hat at the end of the night and all winnings were donated to her favorite non-profit.

It was great fun watching the smirk fade from Patrick's face as Verna cleaned his clock. In short order, she'd lifted 50 bucks from him and in the space of an hour, he was shut out. He rolled his eyes as she crowed her triumph and scooted his chair closer to mine. "You could have warned me," he mumbled.

"I could have," I agreed.

Patrick leaned in and whispered, "I let her win."

"Of course you did." My quirked eyebrow made him laugh and he settled back in his chair.

"That was my date money."

Now I was the one chuckling. "Ooh, big spender."

His hand brushed mine as he leaned forward. "Actually, I expect her to cough up the other half."

"Who's the lucky girl?" I asked casually.

Patrick looked over and flashed his smoking hot smile. "I'll tell you, under one condition."

"What's that?"

He tucked my wayward hair behind my ear. "You tell me what SH means."

Jenny came up behind us and handed each of us a soda. "Sex Hair."

Patrick seemed inordinately pleased at this affirmation. As Jenny drifted down the table, he ran his finger across the top of my hand and said, "So about that girl…"

I snatched my hand away. "None of my business."

"You sure about that?" He was sitting way too close, and his heavenly scent of wood smoke and musk was breaking down the last of my resolve. As the room seemed to melt away, Patrick added, "For a smart girl, you can be pretty dense."

******

Verna cornered me in the kitchen as I helped Jenny clean up. "I was right about you two."

I placed the coffee pot in the drain tray. "He's _not_ my boyfriend."

"Yet." Jenny handed me a dirty ash tray and I frowned at the residue from one of her cigars.

"Look, there's nothing going on. We're just friends."

"Didn't look like _nothing_ to me," Verna stated with a tone that said I better not argue with my elders.

My dramatic sigh was cut off by the sight of Patrick entering the kitchen. "Mind if I jump in?" he asked Jenny.

"Be my guest." Jenny and Verna hovered behind us before taking seats at the kitchen table.

The sight of Patrick Verona scrubbing pots rendered me speechless, and he damn well knew it. "Impressed?" he asked mischievously.

"Flesh-eating, soul-sucking hooligans do _not_ help in the kitchen."

"Really? Then I guess I'm done here." Patrick started to dry off his hands but stopped when I touched his arm.

"You should finish what you started."

He smiled at that statement, for we both knew I was referring to our earlier conversation. "Is that an order?"

I turned the tables on him and used one of his tricks. "Do you want it to be an order?"

Patrick sidled closer and I shivered when he ran his hand down my arm. "Yes, ma'am."

*****

"What the hell?" Patrick watched as Jenny scooped up the cash and tossed it in a bag.

"It's going to a good cause."

"Save the Naked Mole Rats?" He looked amused rather than annoyed that his date money was going to a cause he didn't support.

Jenny handed him a flier. "Cheetah Conservation Fund."

Patrick read the contents and tucked it in his back pocket. "I can get behind that."

I remembered the picture of him with some guy at the San Diego Zoo. "So can I."

"Glad you came tonight?" Jenny queried, more for his benefit than mine.

He looked at me and nodded his head. "Sure."

"Kat never invites anyone here."

I started to protest but was cut off by Patrick. "How can she? Wally keeps her locked up tighter than Fort Knox."

Jenny had no love for my Dad, and the feeling was mutual. "How'd you manage to escape?"

"I let down my hair," I joked, enjoying the grin on Patrick's face as he moved off to inspect Jenny's wall of portraits.

Jenny smiled knowingly and moved off to watch TV in the den. Patrick was standing in front of a Stratford family photo, where my Dad was smiling in a way I hadn't seen since my Mom died. His arm rested on her shoulders (nearly even with his) and her hands surrounded younger versions of me and Bianca. "Wow, you look just like her."

"Yeah."

"It must be tough for your Dad."

"Sometimes." I looked and acted like Mom and was a constant reminder of what he'd lost.

"Sucks to be you." His slightly flippant statement was tempered by the sympathy in his voice.

"Thanks."

"How long has it been?"

"Seven years ago, on the day after Thanksgiving."

Patrick touched my shoulder for a second. "You ready to head home?"

"In a minute." I stuck my head in the den and waved bye to Jenny.

She got to her feet and hugged me. We both knew why I'd stopped in, and our annual visit meant more to me than the forced pleasantries of dinner with Uncle Jimmy's brood. "Tell SH I'm keeping an eye on him."

"OK. Anything else?"

"Find that motel room, before someone beats you to it."

And with that banging around my head, I moved out to the main room and followed Patrick out to the car. A comfortable silence ensued as he drove with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the seat between us. My hand was only a few inches from his, and I closed my eyes when his fingers closed over mine and squeezed. I sighed when he released his hold and returned his attention to driving me home. He parked around the corner, but surprised me by falling into step beside me. "You like courting trouble?"

"Sure do." He was looking straight at me when he said this and I looked away before he caught me smiling.

We both looked in the front window and saw Dad still passed out with his mouth hanging open. "Thank God," I whispered.

Patrick followed me up the stairs to the balcony and leaned against the dormer, which effectively blocked my path to the window. "Come out with me tomorrow."

Tomorrow was Black Friday, and the worst day of the year for me. "I can't."

"Even if I show up with a get out of jail free card?" He leaned in until our noses almost touched, and I nearly swooned when his hair brushed against me.

"Don't think that will fly." My voice cracked and Patrick grinned at the effect he was having on me.

"Well, if anything changes, I get off at 4." He slid a business card into my hand and I was surprised to see the logo from a record store at the mall.

I tucked it in my pocket. "Thanks."

"No sweat."

"You mind moving so I can go inside?"

"Sure." Patrick stepped to one side and just before I raised my leg to climb in, he caught me around the waist. The motion propelled me against him, and I quickly discerned that he was aroused.

"I have to…" My words faded at the look in his eyes.

"I know." His lips brushed mine like the soft touch of a butterfly's wings, and in the space between thought and motion, he was gone.

I touched my mouth and stood for a moment before heading in. Instead of my nice, quiet room, I was greeted by Bianca standing at the door with an evil smile. "You are _so_ busted," she announced with barely concealed glee.

******


	2. Chapter 2

2

"Guess what I have in store for you." Bianca sat on my bed and bounced a few times for good measure.

"Let you rent Kate Hudson movies for the next month?"

"Great idea, but no."

"How's this? You get to slack off through the Christmas holidays, and I take over your chores."

She tapped a finger against her head. "I might take you up on that, in _addition_ to what I have planned."

"Look, all I did was go to Jenny's."

"After Dad told you not to."

I threw up my hands in frustration. "I barely got to see Jenny when we lived in Ohio, and now that we've moved back here, Dad tries to find reasons to keep her at arm's length."

Bianca sighed. "I get it. But the fact remains, you still took off without permission. Add one smoking hot guy to that equation, and you're permanently chained to this house."

Damn, so she _had_ seen us out there. "That's a technicality."

She rolled her eyes. "Dad won't see it that way."

"True. So out with it already." I wanted all the cards on the table so I could throw her out and get some sleep.

"The cheerleaders are meeting at the mall early for some shopping."

"How is that my problem?" My eyelids were heavy and I opened my mouth in a jaw cracking yawn.

"You're taking me."

"_What_?" I was suddenly wide awake. The thought of going anywhere near a mall on Black Friday was horrifying, and I always avoided it like the plague.

"You heard me. We're out the door at 6:30 to meet the girls at 7."

"Why the hell can't they give you a ride?" I said churlishly.

"Because, they're all piling into two cars and there's no room for me."

"Have Dad take you on his way to work."

"It's already settled. You'll be my chauffeur, and I'll call you when it's time to go home."

"And what am I supposed to do in the meantime?"

Bianca stretched and finally got to her feet. "Stay far away from me."

"Nice try, but the warden plans on keeping me locked up here all winter."

She smiled. "Don't worry, I'll get him to say yes."

"I hope you're not planning on cooking him breakfast."

"As a matter of fact, I was."

"Let me guess, blackened marshmallows and yams?"

Bianca threw a pillow at me. "See you at the crack of 5."

The door finally closed behind her and I collapsed on my bed. As I turned on my side, I felt something sharp pressing against me. I reached under me and my fingers closed around a square object. With tired eyes, I drew out the business card Patrick had given me and looked at the ceiling thoughtfully. I turned the card over and my eyes widened at the writing on the back.

Maybe tomorrow wouldn't be so black after all.

*******

It was too early for morning, and I groaned as Bianca bounced into my room with her Minnie Mouse voice.

Burying my head under the covers did nothing to mask her irritating chatter. No, what I needed was a cone of silence, and a gun to shoot my way out.

"Dad says we have to be home by 6."

Damn, there went all my fun with the deep voiced man boy.

I emerged from my cocoon to see her pulling clean clothes from the pile I'd neglected to put away. She tossed my favorite purple shirt aside and pulled out a deep crimson sweater that hugged my every curve. "I'm not wearing that," I protested, even more distressed when she laughed at my camo pants and tossed them on top of my already discarded purple sneakers.

"It's part of the deal." Bianca located some low rise jeans that earned her Good Mousekeeping Seal of Approval.

I rolled my eyes when she pulled out some green hair ribbons. "I'm forced into slave labor for skipping out of school, and you get to dance with the devil."

She gathered up my mop of hair and tied a ribbon around it. "You'll look so festive in this. Dad will definitely approve."

"Does that mean you're going as the Keebler Elf?" I countered acidly.

"No need to be testy. I'm just trying to help."

Bianca had long ago declared that my closet was a war zone, and every item in my wardrobe was a fashion emergency. "_Why_?" I asked suspiciously, narrowing my eyes and wondering what her game was.

Before she could answer, I spotted the corner of a business card sticking out of her pocket. "You stole that," I accused.

"Did not. It was on the floor next to your bed." Bianca plucked it out of my hand and grinned at the handwriting on the back. "SH at 4. Now what could that mean?"

"_Nothing_."

"If I had to venture a guess, I'd say it started with P and ended with V." Her eyes gleamed with a conspiratorial air.

"Whatever." I looked at the ticking clock and glared at her. "Now, do you mind clearing out while I get changed?"

"Don't forget your lip gloss," she said, just before I pushed her out the door and reclaimed my sanity (if only for the five minutes that I had to truss myself up like a Christmas ornament).

*******

Dad had slapped together eggs and toast for us, and I was still munching when he said, "You get your sister home by 6."

"What about me?" I asked in mock innocence.

He flicked his wet towel at my wrist. "Both of you better be in this house no later than 6, got it?"

"Yes, Dad," we said in unison.

The mall was a 10 minute drive on a normal day, but there was nothing ordinary about Black Friday. Traffic jammed the main boulevard for at least a mile, and the lack of manners was glaringly obvious. Some dumbass in an oversized SUV was blocking two lanes while applying her makeup and jabbering on her cell phone. I laid on my horn and my angry face seemed to scare more than a few of these gits, so I carved out my own lane and wedged my car in front of the clueless bimbo in the Escalade.

She swore a blue streak as I blew her a kiss and coasted through the light, leaving her stranded at a red light with a bunch of angry folks. It was the most fun I'd had in a month, and I wondered if I could get through the day by mocking the sheep that came to the mall on Black Friday. Even better, maybe I could persuade SH to stand on the third floor and do our standup routine at the expense of other shoppers.

I beat two other cars into the last spot near the door and scowled at them when they flipped me the bird. "Learn some manners," I yelled before taking a few deep breaths and begging my inner zen to come out of hiding.

Bianca threw me a classic Stratford eye roll. "You should talk."

"Huh?" My sunglasses were in place and I was already disassociating myself with this whole scene.

"You act like you're better than everyone else."

"No, I don't. I just act defensively."

She shook her head. "It scares the hell out of people."

"Which is kind of the point," I countered, ducking my head at the sight of her cheerleading buddies huddled near the front entrance.

Bianca looked immensely relieved. "This is where I get off. Text me when you're ready to leave."

When she was out of earshot, I muttered, "I guess _now_ is not an option." A few pedestrians gave me a wide berth, and I decided that crazy was probably the way to go on a day like this.

******

I hated all the pomp and circumstance, and the canned Christmas music gave me hives. Which was why I'd brought my own misanthropic soundtrack, complete with Dr. Demento and the Kinks classic Father Christmas.

My iPod was safely tucked into a safe location in my jacket, and my Sidekick went into my other pocket. If it vibrated, I would definitely feel it.

As soon as I pushed through the door, it was wall to wall people. I reminded myself to take deep, cleansing breaths, which helped until the moment someone elbowed me and sent me sprawling toward a display of expensive glass objects. My splayed hands nearly sent a fragile fluted glass into orbit, but I skidded to a halt at the last possible second. No one gave me a second glance, and now I knew why people stepped over dying people in the streets.

There was an appalling lack of manners out there, and it wasn't limited to the Millennials. No, the old farts could take equal credit for being assholes, as witnessed by the woman spackling make-up on while blocking an intersection. And they said _I _was rude. _Me_, who was a proud, card-carrying member of NOW and an avid fan of Ms. and Bitch. My undying support for L7, Hole (before the Billy Corgan days) and Bikini Kill should earn me a medal, or at least a footnote in someone's dusty Who's Who. Hell, I could write my own ticket by dumping a bunch of bullshit into a Wikipedia entry, which would promptly be yanked by my vigilant father, whose parental control software was set to filter out everything but Bible verses and cute animal videos. I chewed on that as I shouldered my way back into the tightly compressed stream of humanity, spotting a familiar Padua face every now and again, and promptly pretending I didn't see the fear/hate/loathing when they spotted me. As I approached the cosmetics counter in Bendel's, I heard the familiar chirps of Alvin (Bianca) and her chipmunks (Chastity and Dawn) and took an abrupt detour that dumped me into the concourse, and straight into the path of Patrick Verona being fondled by some chippy. 


	3. Chapter 3

3

Patrick didn't see me gawking in outrage, but I was positive he felt the crumpled up business card that hit him in the ear as I passed. I heard his muffled f bomb, more in response to getting caught out than the itty bitty paper cut I _may_ have caused with my perfect pitch (8th and 9th grade All Stars back home). We exchanged stormy glances from across a packed concourse and there was nothing even remotely close to Doris Day in my acid-drenched heart. I wasn't interested in a Roman Holiday or Breakfast at Tiffany's. Not with SH or any other dude.

He started moving toward me and I managed to get lost in an arcade that passed me through to the food court. I spotted his record store, and took the stairs to the third level. It gave me a perfect vantage point to mock him from above (as it should be) and he caught up to a lanky, blonde guy with well-toned muscles at the entrance. The two of them yakked back and forth and I caught something about 'wasn't supposed to be here'. I started to turn away with a snort and realized I'd given away my position. With the instinct of the stalker on the constant hunt, Patrick looked up through his perpetual fringe of curls and spotted me. "Kat, hold up," he called, and the shock of him using my name for the first time still wasn't enough to keep me cemented to the railing.

There was a toy store and a hair salon with a huge poster for Locks of Love. I chewed at my lip for a few seconds, and chose to disappear into the hair salon. The receptionist (Lucy) believed my fabrication about a vengeful ex and led me deep into the salon to a private room. "Wait here," she advised, and I folded my arms and leaned against the wall. Lucy finally returned and said he was long gone, and that gave me enough confidence to venture back out into the salon.

Standing there with an amused smirk was Patrick, and judging from the looks from Lucy, they knew each other well.

"Thanks a lot," I said to her.

"Hey, you have to face your problems head on." Lucy nudged Patrick's arm before moving back to the front.

"I see the warden let you out for some air," Patrick drawled with a half smile.

"Yeah." I mentally slapped the inrush of lust that shook me as his appreciative gaze traveled down my frame.

"Wow, is all this for me?" His smile widened and I had to look away to compose myself.

I kicked at an imaginary dirt clot. "Don't flatter yourself, Giacomo."

Patrick leaned in. "I'm no Casanova. Can I help it if I'm a chick magnet?"

SH had this amazing capacity to astound and annoy me in the same breath.

"Try brushing your hair," I muttered as an old lady with blue hair stationed herself under a dryer across from us.

"And ruin my fun? Not a chance," Patrick replied. "So, we still on for 4:00?"

Now _that_ was funny. "Why, so you can add another notch to your belt?"

"You've got it all wrong."

"I know what I saw, and I'm _not_ that girl."

His smoking hot smile (damn his eyes) was back in play. "Don't I know it. That's why I find you so interesting."

Patrick made _interesting_ sound dark and sensual. "Ooh, lucky me." He looked at the clock and frowned. "I'm late for work. Can we catch up at lunch?"

My inner Grinch demanded that I tell him to shove it, but I was good at ignoring a voice that sounded way too much like Dad.

"Maybe." Patrick inched closer and I stiffened when his lips brushed my ear.

"I'm buying."

Hmm, he drove a hard bargain, but a free lunch was nothing to sniff at. "Where and when?"

"Food court, say at 11?" I nodded and felt another jet of molten lava nearly incinerate me as he ran his hand down my arm and favored me with another of his killer smiles.

******

My damned hair was down to my waist and I was in the right place to play Felicity. "I'd like to donate my hair," I announced to Lucy.

She looked at my raven waterfall and smiled. "_He_ won't like that."

Even more reason to chop it off. "Where do I sign up?"

There was some paperwork to fill out and I shoved it back at her.

"You're making a mistake," Lucy warned.

"I hate to break it to you, but you're no doctor, and I'm keeping my five cents."

She looked at me blankly. "There's no charge," she said, clearly missing the Peanuts reference by a country mile.

I snorted. "OK, Einstein, where do you want me?"

Lucy directed me to a stout woman (Rhonda) with a twinkle in her eyes. "You can wait there while I finish up."

There was a single seat sandwiched between a mother and a toddler who looked disturbingly like Uncle Jimmy's brood. As if that thought spurred him on, the kid jumped to his feet and started twirling the chair around while his caped mother got scalped (for a good cause). The first few times around were faintly amusing, but that stopped when the little monster stomped on my feet.

"Hey, knock it off," I shouted.

His mother flashed him a smile while she texted away on her iPhone. "Now, Davy, can you please stop?"

Feh. She was one of those parents who thought their kids could do no wrong and framed every command to them with a question mark at the end.

"You asking permission?" I looked over at her in disbelief.

"I wasn't talking to you."

"You think he's paying attention?" I got to my feet and collared the little brat as he got ready for stomp number two. He squirmed in my grasp, but I had a firm hold on his hoodie.

"Don't you dare touch my son," the now half bald Mom cried, still more concerned with finishing her text message than disciplining her kid.

"Excuse _me_, lady. Your kid is out of control and if you didn't have your head so far up your ass, maybe you'd do something about it."

"Let go," the kid complained, and I finally released him into the clutches of his negligent parent.

Mommy Dearest gave him a hug while glaring at me (good trick if you can do it).

"The nerve," she whispered to Rhonda, who merely smiled indulgently and finished scalping the Joan in training.

Before she moved off, I hissed, "Leave the kid at home next time."

"You're one of _those_ people who hate kids," she sneered.

"Naw, just their lousy parents," I shot back, and returned her dirty look with a withering stare.

"You have a nice day now."

******

Rhonda measured off 12 inches of hair and whistled. "Wow, you'll still have a ton of hair left after this."

"Can you do something different with it?"

She looked at the shape of my face. "What do you have in mind?"

"Maybe some layering."

"I don't recommend it. It'll be a bitch to grow out afterward."

Rhonda had a point. "OK, just around the face then."

"Will do." With military precision, she got busy with the scissors and I tried not to wince when the metal caressed my scalp. In short order, my personal waterfall was gone from my head and I literally felt like a weight had been lifted from me. Rhonda gave me hand mirror and I was startled by the stranger looking back at me. The tapering around my face framed it becomingly and made me look…_sophisticated_.

"I like it," I said simply. Her reflection smiled back at me.

"He'll like it too."

"Really?"

"Sure. It's still long enough to fuel his imagination."

My cheeks warmed at her comment. "Thanks. Any chance I can get some spray on color?"

"Sure, but I'm supposed to charge you for that."

I handed her a ten, which she promptly pocketed.

"How about matching the sweater?" I suggested.

Rhonda shook her head and showed me a palette of colors. "That one," she said, pointing to a dark purple swatch.

"Good choice." I nodded in agreement.

The next ten minutes transformed the reluctant feminist into a swan. Dark purple strands were expertly woven throughout my hair, which Rhonda styled into a loose French twist. Wisps of hair framed my face and I was pleased by the final results.

"You approve?" she asked.

"You rock," I exclaimed, slipping another ten into her palm and wishing her happy holidays without the slightest trace of sarcasm.

Before I could leave, Rhonda touched my arm. "You want to keep that boy interested?"

"Maybe," I replied, though my heart was trip hammering to a different tune altogether.

"Then make him work for it."

"How do I do that?" I hadn't the slightest idea what motivated the likes of Patrick Verona.

"Check out the competition." The blonde guy with the long, lean body flashed before me.

"Thanks again."

"Good luck."

*******

Tuned In was your typical mall store, full of shiny kiosks and overpriced CDs by the sort of hacks who regularly hit the Billboard charts. There were exceptions, but they were far and few between. I stood across from the entrance in full lip-chewing mode, which was a habit I wanted to dump in 2010.

I watched a bevy of bimbos stalk the aisles and pretend to shop, but their real targets were Patrick and his hunky sidekick. Their prey leaned against the counter and ignored the throng of non-paying customers, which did nothing for their bottom line.

Perhaps if I sweetened the pot and actually bought something, I could start putting my plan into place. There was only one problem; if I did that, I was no better than the girls I mocked on a daily basis.

Lucy's words came back to me, and I wondered why I was so yellow about facing down some guys. I took on people twice my size and lived to tell about it. I intentionally subjected myself to ridicule in an auto shop stuffed with sexist pigs, and had the last laugh as my kitted up car glided away from them. But my courage always fled when it came to facing my feelings, because I'd been burned back in Ohio.

There was a time when things were different. I had fallen madly in love with an impossibly gorgeous jock, who promptly bedded me and dumped me at the curb when he got what he wanted from me. So I mistrusted the male species in general, and constantly suppressed my ravening libido at the possible cost of my own happiness.

When Patrick Verona nearly collided with me, I felt my center of balance go completely off kilter. He was a maze of complexity, and I was no closer to figuring him out that I had been on that first day of school. Part of me recognized the burgeoning attraction between us, but this wasn't just about want. Patrick was actively pursuing me, and I was letting him catch up. But even as this became clear, I also wondered how we'd sustain a relationship when girls were constantly hanging on him. He was a guy, and they dug stuff like that, but there had to come a point when it got old.

So what did I do? Should I fight our impossible chemistry or fall into his arms, which my body was clearly urging me to do? My head shrieked no, even as my heart leapt at the sight of him.

At the very moment I let chemistry win out, Patrick looked up and saw me standing there. His joyful grin was completely unaffected, and the other girls seemed to melt away as I strode forward and into the store.

Note: I had major problems with the formatting of this chapter. For some reason. ffnet was taking my Word file and removing all the paragraph breaks. I had to do the formatting here. Does anyone know what causes this? Thanks for all the feedback and alerts. It is a busy time of year, and I am afraid the writing is slower than I'd like it to be.


	4. Chapter 4

The Pussycat Dolls wannabes scoped me out and dismissed me with flicks of their enameled fingers. I merely laughed inside as I located the latest release from New Model Army, and sent a silent thank you to my mother's good taste. As a child at her knee, she'd insisted on peppering my musical education with scathing, politically charged punk from both sides of the pond.

"Can I help you find something?" Surfer Dude (his nametag said Jess) was close enough for me to see the gold flecks in his green eyes, and _damn_, they were fine eyes.

I smiled up at him (he had to be 6' 3") and remembered not to send him packing with my tartness. No, this was a day for sweetness and light, even when a black cloud was scudding across my heart.

"Actually, _Jess_, I'm looking for some rare vinyl."

He grinned back and I could see is interest growing. "What did you have in mind?"

There was no way they would have this, but it was worth throwing out there. "Yesterday and Today by The Beatles."

That got a laugh out of him. "Sure, and I've got a bridge in Brooklyn to sell you too."

Jess had a nice laugh, and it was easy to flirt with him. "What, no cutting edge tunes?"

"This is the mall, not Amoeba Music."

I pretended to pout. "You mean I'll have to travel all the way to L.A. to find this?"

He moved slightly closer. "You might have better luck on eBay."

"Any chance you're selling on there?" I was pouring it on thick now and Jess was clearly enjoying himself.

His eyes dropped down from my face and my cheeks started to burn as he took his time checking out my assets, lingering for far too long on my breasts. "Umm, what did you say?"

His gaze returned to my face and his lazy smile returned. Sexy to be sure, but no match for the slow burn of Patrick Verona.

"Nothing important."

"So what's your name?" Jess asked suddenly.

I extended my hand. "Kat Stratford." His thumb caressed the top of my hand and my treacherous body responded with a surge of lust.

"_Nice_," Jess drawled. "You doing anything later, Kat?"

Wow, this guy was a total player, and obviously unaware that Patrick was glaring at us both from behind the counter. He paced back and forth like a caged lion, and I could almost taste the worry mixed in with the anger.

"That depends on him." I looked over his shoulder and watched the playful expression fall away from Jess's face.

"You're with Patrick?" Jess's disappointment was palpable, and I almost managed to care about leading him on.

"I'm his flavor of the month, didn't he tell you?" I said cheerfully.

Jess looked flustered. "I didn't know." I patted his arm and made sure Patrick saw my gesture.

"It's OK, maybe you can help me out."

"Anything. Just name it." And I could see he was totally sincere. No wonder Patrick hung out with him.

"Pretend you like me." A smile fluttered at the edges of his lips. "That's easy. What else?"

"Talk me up when I leave the store and tell Patrick you're planning on asking me out."

"Hmm, the old hard to get routine? I gotta tell you, he's not used to working for it."

"Yeah, I kinda got that."

Jess's eyes caressed my face. "But I believe you're worth the trouble."

"Thanks." I followed him to the counter and felt Patrick's eyes on me. As I paid for my disk and pretended to write something down on the back of a sales slip, I handed the slip to Jess and flashed my pearly whites at Patrick before leaving the store.

When I rounded the corner, I sank back against a wall and managed to slow my breathing. Truth be told, I could easily fall under the spell of someone like Jess if I didn't watch myself.

******

11:00 came and went and Patrick was a no show. I gave him ten minutes before deciding to fly solo.

A quick look at the food court made my stomach hurt, but I finally settled for a veggie gyro with some vegetable soup. It turned out to be better than it looked, and I was scarfing it down like a herring gull when SH finally made an appearance.

Patrick appraised me coolly before moving toward Baja Fresh. It took him awhile to get through the line, but he finally sat on the end of my bench. "You could have waited," he commented after taking a few bites of his burrito.

"I could have."

He looked at my empty plate with a raised eyebrow. "The warden starving you?"

"I'm a growing girl."

The dark, wet heat of his eyes scorched me. "Indeed."

"Wasn't sure you were coming," I commented evenly.

"Neither was I." He threw me a veiled look before tucking back into his food.

"Why'd you change your mind?"

Patrick shrugged. "Had to eat."

I'd obviously overplayed this hand. "About later…I'll understand if you want to cancel."

He looked at me like I'd lost my mind. "Are you kidding?"

"No. I'm giving you an out."

Patrick sighed heavily. "I'm here, aren't I?"

He sidled closer and suddenly seemed to notice my hair. "What the hell did you do?"

"Donated it to Locks of Love."

"Why?"

"Well, there's the charity angle…"

"Of course there is." He gave it a second appraisal and added, "Looks OK, I guess."

I snorted. "Like I need your approval."

A sensual smile flickered across his lips. "Do I get to take it down later?"

The sudden charge between us electrified me. "That depends."

Patrick leaned in. "On my kissing? Because we already know how good it can be."

"Do we?"

"Oh, yeah," he said softly, his eyes dropping to my lips before capturing my gaze once again. "You know I'm right."

I thought I could outmaneuver him, but SH had me where he wanted me. "Could be," I said lightly.

He looked down at my bag. "So what did you buy?"

"Today is a Good Day."

"NMA, right? Jess and I saw them on their last tour."

The pink elephant was suddenly upon us. "Lucky you."

"But I'm sure you already knew that."

I wouldn't have pegged Patrick as insecure, but that last statement told me he wasn't as cool and collected as he'd like people to believe. I shook my head. "Nope."

"Really? Because you seemed awfully chatty back at the store."

"We were discussing Yesterday and Today."

"Ah, the infamous butcher cover. I'm surprised you don't already own that one."

"Actually, my Mom had it. But Bianca decided to use it for an art project and that was the end of it."

Patrick groaned. "That's crazy. Glad I don't have to deal with that."

"Yeah, it can be a total hassle."

"Aw, look on the bright side. If it weren't for your sister, you'd still be chained to the house."

"True." I saw him checking the time and continued, "Don't let me hold you up."

He waved his hand like it was no big deal. "Jess thinks you're cool."

"He seems nice." That was a safe response, and it seemed to reassure Patrick.

"Is that it?"

"Why, did he say something?"

Patrick looked down at his hands to gather his thoughts. "He told me I better get my act together, or he'd beat me at my own game."

"Meaning what?"

"You know _exactly_ what it means."

Yeah, I kind of did. "Maybe."

Patrick got to his feet and when I started to rise, he kissed the corner of my mouth. "Next time, I won't miss."

*****

I watched the bottom feeders move in for the kill as Patrick returned to his post. "Ho, ho, 'ho," I mocked. No one was here to enjoy my jokes, which removed much of the fun from mall mockery.

"Damn, whatever will I do with myself for four hours?"

I decided to head for the cinemas, but first I had to run the gauntlet of people with their hands out. Salvation Army (pass, I already gave twice at the market), Bayside Humane (they still euthanized, pass), and someone from Mission Alcala collecting for a food drive (it wasn't the good sister's fault that her church sucked, they could have five). What surprised me were the number of politicos setting up shop (if the shoe fit, might as well get your cut) along the same corridor. Ignoring the right wing pleas to stop universal health care, I stepped right up to the GLBA booth and dumped the rest of my change into their jar. Anyone who overturned Prop 8 deserved my support, and their candidate was in the middle of the political shit storm at the California Supreme Court.

When I finally made it to the theatre, I groaned at the listings. My two choices were a warmed over Disney classic and the latest Harry Potter (by some Christmas miracle, it was still drawing patrons, even with it being out on DVD).

A frumpy looking clerk looked out through one eye and figuring he had only two brain cells left, I pointed to Daniel Radcliffe's face. "That one."

Whoopee, they took plastic (wait till Dad got wind of the bill). At the snack counter, I bought a large bottle of water and snickered at their candy prices. As I was passed through their metal detector (yeah, I could totally see a suicide bomber crashing the gates), I almost giggled at the thought of the half dozen chocolate bars (courtesy of my neighborhood Boy scouts) tucked safely away in my purse.

This was my third viewing of the latest Potter flick, and I went purely for the pleasure of ogling Daniel Radcliffe. Who'd have thought that a scrawny, short kid would fill out so nicely? The subtext of each scene made me snicker, even as I drew dirty looks from the diehard Potter fans further down the row.

My fun ended when a mouth breather with a kid from hell sat directly behind me. The lady's sticky sweet prattle made my teeth hurt, but I could have lived with that if her child hadn't starting going to town on the back of my seat. Rat a tat tat went his legs, and I completely lost it when she ignored his antics. "Do you mind?" I hissed.

She goggled at me. "What is your problem?"

"Your kid is kicking my seat."

"Then maybe you should move," she suggested.

"I was here first." My voice rose with my frustration, annoyed by the shushing from the Raddies and wondering how I got myself into these situations. Everywhere I went, I seemed to collect assholes and clueless gits. Was it my lot in life to teach people manners?

"My son likes sitting here."

"Ooh, well let's all bow down to his majesty," I countered archly.

"No need to take that tone with me."

"Really? Then let's see what the manager thinks."

"Be my guest."

I stomped off to guest services and detailed my dissatisfaction in graphic detail. As the manager's eyes started to glaze over, the assistant offered me a refund. "I just want them to move."

She took me aside and whispered, "That lady is the manager's sister. He lets her get away with murder."

Ooh, if I stepped up as his long lost sister, could I use the kill card too?

My hand took the ten she offered and I flounced out of the cinema with a cluster headache starting behind my right eye. If it escalated, I'd have to take a rain check on my assignation with SH.

******

I could usually sense the oncoming migraine storm, but this one ripped through my skull like a tsunami . With a groan, I barely made it to the bathroom before my lunch came up.

A half hour passed before I felt strong enough to stop riding the porcelain bus.

My phone buzzed and it was a text from Patrick.

_Hey, Jess cut me loose early. Where are you?_

**Sick. Food court loo.**

_Swine flu sick, or something else?_

**Migraine.**

_What can I do?_

**Help me. **

I put on my sunglasses to blot out the bright lights, but they did nothing for the rainbows that shimmered across my field of view. There was no way I could drive home, so I'd have to rely on SH. My last thought before I staggered out the door was how much I hated being the helpless female, throwing myself into the strong arms of a man.

******  
Warmth and blessed darkness swaddled me like a cocoon. It was safe and comfortable and every wonderful thing I craved.

I started to stretch and my hands collided with skin and bone.

"_Ow_, remind me not to mess with you."

My entire being vibrated as those deep timbres resonated within me. Time and space had no meaning as I lost myself in the moment, but it only lasted a few seconds before cold reality set in.

"Where are we?" I heard the far off sound of surf and had a pretty good idea what the answer would be.

"Blacks Beach." No great surprise that he was a clothing optional dude.

"_Wow_, where do I sign up?"

Patrick's warm breath stirred the back of my neck. "You're just _full_ of surprises, Stratford."

He didn't know the half of it. Predictable, I was not. "So have I died and gone to hell?"

"Not yet. I borrowed Jess's van so you could sleep off your headache."

"Hmm, _definitely_ not raised by wolves," I joked, covering my surprise with my usual banter.

"Perhaps there's a heart beating in there after all."

Patrick whispered, "Better not let that get out."

"Or what?"

"I'd have to kill you and throw you in the shallow grave I dug for my family."

"What time is it?"

"Too late to go home."

"Tell me it's at least still Friday." I couldn't tell him that if Friday had rolled into Saturday without me honoring my Mom, then it was a very sad day indeed.

"Why, do you turn into a pumpkin at midnight?"

"No, but you might when I get done with you." I felt around for my purse and the zippered pocket where I kept my phone. When I saw it was after 10, I'm pretty sure my blood pressure jumped into the stratosphere.

"Aww, don't worry. I've got you covered," Patrick said suggestively.

Most girls would flutter their eyelashes and coo with delight. I recognized the honey trap and moved on."Who knows we're here?"

"Jess, and your sister."

"Oh, God, my sister…"

He moved closer and rested his hand on my shoulder. "It's cool. She got a ride home with her friends."

"What about the warden?" I couldn't see a blasted thing, but every one of my senses went on red alert when he wrapped one arm around my waist. Our bodies meshed perfectly, and it was difficult to focus on the matter at hand when my libido was demanding release.

Patrick knew he had me. "He thinks you're recovering at Mandela's house."

"You know all the angles."

"True, but I prefer curves." His hand traveled down my side into the hollow between my waist and my hips and pulled me back against him. Every part of me tightened as his lips grazed my neck, sampled my ear lobe, and eased my sweater off my shoulder to land a kiss there.

I made a strangled noise in my throat when his fingers brushed the side of my breast. "L-light, please" I stammered.

"Thought you'd never ask." Patrick lit a candle that was safely sconced on the wall of the van. It flared for a second and a moment later, I squinted out at my surroundings. It was a nicely appointed van (no shag carpeting, thank God) and we appeared to be spooning in a bonafide air mattress.

"Nice digs."

"Can't take the credit."

"Ah, but you enjoy the spoils."

"That I do." Patrick rolled me to face him and grinned when I gaped at the hairy splendor of his naked chest. "Ah, you _are_ excited to see me."

My normally quick tongue was frozen by lust as my gaze traveled from tip to toe. "You always strip for a first date?" I quipped, my light tone belying the fire racing through me.

"Only for special cases." The warm sherry of his eyes darkened as he stroked my hair. "By the way, I like it better down."

Damn, that was right. I'd promised to let him take it down, and he'd apparently done that to alleviate the pressure on my head.

"Thanks." His fingers touched the side of my face. "Some date, huh?"

"I've had worse." Like the jock who screwed me and dropped me miles from home.

Patrick smiled gently "Good to know."

I touched the curls spilling over his forehead and sighed at their softness. Patrick's eyes closed as my fingers dug into his sex hair, losing all my shyness in anticipation for what came next. The words on the tip of my tongue spilled out before I could stop them. "You know that thing about keeping it in your pants?"

He rolled his eyes and smiled. "Yeah?"

"Don't."

******

_So we went down to the beach  
And built a fire to remember  
So who wants to live forever  
When these moments will only come the once?  
Staring into the embers of the fire..._

_Autumn, Lyrics by New Model Army_

Author's Note: I know Blacks Beach can only be accessed via other beaches or down a steep cliff, but I am taking some creative license here.

Those kisses on the roof were child's play compared to the major league mashup that got Jess's van rocking. Both of us were miles past the self control line, and we fell on each other like a pack of rabid dogs. SH was a carnal master, and he played me like a cello, the long swoops of his hands and mouth eliciting groans in the lowest registers. When we finished, I wasn't sure where I started and Patrick ended. We were perfectly in tune during that frenzied coupling, and remained in perfect sync as we lay entwined.

I'd started this day with fists swinging and ended it by completely surrendering to the feelings I'd battled against all these months.

And what happened next? Did I have any right to demand commitment when I'd thrown myself at him? That made me no better than the usual 'hos he found on easy street.

The way he'd played me…oh, god, we'd done impossibly smutty things that made me burn like an endless flame…no high school kid should know these things. Which could only mean he'd been out in the world for quite a long time. And where did that leave me, with only a few assignations between that first asshole and this dark god who seemed to dig me for some reason?

I shelved these thoughts when my cell phone revealed that only a half hour remained until Black Friday melted into Saturday, and I had yet to honor my Mom's memory. Patrick tried to stop me from sitting up. "What's up?" he asked lazily.

"Does Jess have a boom box?"

"Sure, right over there." He pointed at a dim corner of the van and when I tried it out, I was happy to hear it had enough juice.

I slipped into my clothes and Patrick only followed suit when he saw I was determined to leave the van. "Bring your lighter," I said, grabbing at the New Model Army disk I'd bought at the mall.

"You mind telling me why?"

"Not yet." The night air felt good and I stretched my already relaxed frame, so happy to be out of pain that I nearly let out a small whoop. The beach was deserted, lit only by the Maglites we'd grabbed from Jess's endless treasure box.

I set the boom box on the sea wall and slid in my new disk. Mom would have loved _Autumn_, and I planned on cranking it to 11, to be sure she could hear its message in whatever realm she'd ended up in. NMA had been one of her favorite bands, sating her political aspirations with their often fierce message and her literary side with Justin Sullivan's mastery of language.

"Light my fire," I said under my breath, but Patrick's keen ears caught my words.

"Didn't I already do that?"

I smiled. "Find me some driftwood."

"For what, my funeral pyre?"

"I can arrange that," I cracked, watching as his flashlight dipped and fell as he scavenged the remnants from a recent storm. While he did that, I spotted some newspaper and decided it would be my fire starter.

Patrick returned and arranged the wood neatly at my feet. "And now?"

"Here." I handed him yesterday's sports section and he smirked for a moment.

"For me? I'm touched."

"Only in the head."

"You sure I can't interest you in that piggy back ride?" I saw what he was doing, but I would not be swayed from the task at hand.

"Some other time. Just light it already."

Bonfires, or fires of any kind, were strictly prohibited here. That was pretty much the rule up and down the coast, but there was barely more than a light sea breeze tonight.

Patrick flicked his lighter and the flames sprung up faster than expected.

I turned the CD player on, skipped to the song Autumn, and let it rip as the fire burned hotter and brighter. The song's acoustic strains filled the air, and I noticed Patrick's foot tapping along to the beat.

When it got to the part about the fire and remembering, I dug my hands into my pockets and embraced the pain as I did every year. Each time I bid good-bye to another Black Friday, I managed to push aside my grief for awhile.

This year's tribute was particularly poignant and fitting, and in the golden light from the flames, I saw the understanding in Patrick's eyes. He stepped over and slung his arm across my shoulders. The song wound down and at my nod, Patrick started kicking sand on the fire and I joined in until the fire was no more.

We sat side by side and listened as Peace is Only rolled into States Radio. I skipped forward to Ocean Rising and closed my eyes as the beautiful story flowed out into the night. "This is how I remember."

"I think your Mom would approve."

My heart squeezed like a fist and I grabbed his hand like a lifeline. "Yeah, she would."

Patrick leaned back and the momentum pulled us backward into the sand. My gaze went skyward and the skein of bright stars stunned me with its beauty. "Orion," I said after a long beat.

He pointed our joined hands at Betelgeuse. "Can you see the red color?"

This side of him surprised and delighted me. "Yeah. I bet it's even better through a scope. You have one?"

His only answer was an enigmatic smile. "We should get going."

******

The night ended in all night café where I ordered half the items on the menu and proceeded to devour them with obvious relish.

Patrick paid the bill with an amused smile and we made our way back to the mall in record time. The crowds from hell were gone, and the only cars left in the lot were my car and a beat up Volkswagen bus.

I gathered up my things and tossed them on the passenger side. Patrick leaned against the side of the van and watched me with his adorable half smile.

"What?" I said after ensuring that my seatbelt was secured properly.

He strolled over and tucked my hair behind my ear. "'Night, Kat." His hands touched mine and then he was off toward the van.

With a wave, SH drove off and left me to my own devices.

*******

Epilogue

Weeks passed and I barely saw Patrick. Besides my continued grounding, I was also straitjacketed by finals and college admission paperwork.

I shunted my father's doom and gloom predictions about my chances of getting into Brown into the dustbin, and focused on forward momentum.

There were small signs that Patrick cared, like the chocolate truffles he left in my locker (my favorite), and the mix CDs that somehow found their way into my purse. He generally blew off study hall, so I only saw him across the crowded classroom in our history class. And he seemed so intent on avoiding me that I was pretty shocked when he showed up on our doorstep (with a wrapped package) on Christmas Eve in the middle of a heated Scrabble game.

Dad was first at the door, crowding out both me and Bianca with his pointed finger. "You aren't welcome here."

"Dad," I said. "It's almost Christmas." That seemed to set Dad back on his feet.

"You're the reason my daughter got suspended."

I caught the flash of amusement in Patrick's gaze. "I know. I hope she can forgive me."

Bianca and I snickered silently behind Dad's back. "Kat, is there any reason I should let this boy in?"

Yeah, I could think of a couple thousand, but all I did was jot the word manners down on my notepad before handing it to Dad. He harrumphed and finally stood aside to let Patrick enter.

"Thanks, Dad," I said quietly, before taking Patrick aside and muttering, "What the hell are you doing here?"

He nudged my elbow with his. "Manners."

"Sorry. What the _heck _are you doing here?" I asked with the makings of a real smile.

"Thought it was about time to wear the warden down."

Now _that_ sounded promising. "Anything else?"

"Yeah, this is for you." He slid the package out from under his arm and handed it to me. The package was expertly wrapped and about the size of my precious vinyl upstairs.

"Thanks. You want to join in on the fun?"

Patrick looked over at the Scrabble tiles and shook his head. "No, thanks. I should probably go."

So much for charming the pants off my Dad (that was a rather revolting thought).

"You sure?"

We walked to the door and when my Dad turned away, Patrick caught my chin with his mouth. His second attempt was successful, and for a mind-melting few seconds, he devoured my lips with his. "Keep your window unlocked," was all he said before disappearing down the walk and jumping in yet another borrowed car.

I rejoined the party and tried to ignore my Dad's rather pointed stare. "What did that deep voiced man boy want?"

The present was safely tucked away so I could spirit it upstairs and open it privately. But Dad was not letting me off so easily. "Just checking in, I guess."

"About?"

"Our upcoming history test."

"And he couldn't have called or emailed?" Now that was a laugh. Dad had locked down my computer and only allowed email with him looking over my shoulder. And forget my phone. It became his every night as soon as I walked in the door.

"Dad, it's your turn," I replied, glad to have something to distract him.

"Did that boy make a move on you?" Dad asked sternly.

Bianca was lapping up every second of this, and I could see her tapping out a text message to her pals, no doubt giving a play by play of my miserable love life.

I glared over at her before saying, "Sort of."

"And what did you tell him?"

Well, I told him lots of rather sordid stuff about how much I liked certain parts of his gorgeous body, but that was beside the point. A single word occurred to me, and I said, "When he tried pawing me, I said 'don't."

"Don't?" Dad echoed with an odd glint in his eyes.

"Yeah. And he's been a complete gentleman ever since." That was the only true part to this entire conversation, but it seemed to set Dad at ease.

*****

I waited until midnight, but neither SH or Santa Claus showed their face.

His present was on my desk, and curiosity almost killed the Kat when my hands reached for it.

"Hands off." His sudden appearance nearly made me jump out of my skin.

"Thought it was a present."

Patrick stepped through the window and stepped to within an inch of me. He smelled mighty fine and his spectacular pecs were clearly defined by his rather tight gray tee. "To be opened on Christmas morning."

"You, or the present?" I joked.

"Either one," Patrick replied. He hip checked me as he moved to sit in my chair, and surprised me by pulling me into his lap. "So what are you waiting for?"

Patrick's lips nuzzled my neck and that distracted me enough to throw my head back against his shoulder. The package dropped from my hands as he turned me enough to capture my mouth with his. The pressure of his lips forced mine open and I gasped at the twisting, turning, biting, and sucking as he deepened the kiss. His hand traveled up my thigh and dipped beneath my pajama top. "This."

"You sure?"

"Oh, yeah." I held up my arms and watched his eyes darken as I pulled my nightshirt over my head. The rest was a blur of motion as we left a trail of clothes on our way to my bed. It was a repeat of Black Friday, and we quickly reached sated, overheated status.

Patrick got up for a moment and returned with his other present, which he handed back to me. "Open it now."

I started ripping it open and my mouth opened in shock when I caught sight of the infamous butcher cover of the Beatles' Yesterday and Today. "What…how..is this for real?"

"Sure is. Comes from my private collection."

That sounded sexy somehow. "I'd like to see a lot _more_ of this collection," I declared huskily.

"That can be arranged."

*****

Patrick woke me up awhile later and urged me to follow him to the window.

I started to reach for my clothes but he shook his head. "It's warm out there."

So we moved through the window and I saw a telescope waiting for us.

"You hauled this all the way up here?"

"Only for you." He moved up behind me and circled my waist with one arm as he told me what to look for.

I looked in the eyepiece and nearly conked my head when Patrick got a little too free with his hands. "Damn, this is the best stargazing lesson I've ever had."

Patrick turned on his red light and showed me how to work the controls. We saw a whole host of deep sky objects and it would have gone on all night if I hadn't yawned loudly. "Let's go inside."

I knew it was close to dawn and time for him to make his getaway. But not before he drew me down for a quick makeout session.

My chest was heaving when he rolled off to get dressed. Before leaving, he hunkered down and touched my face gently. "I could fall for you," he said simply.

"Really?"

"Definitely."

I followed him to the window and let my fingers drift from his shoulders, across his pecs, and then down around his waist. "Thanks for making this the best Christmas ever."

His smoky half smile shot straight through me. "And many more to _come_."

The End


End file.
